


The Rose

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [13]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: Belonging, Class Differences, Damn those pesky emotions!, Friendship, Gen, Redemption, Repressed Feelings, Servants, Victorian, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: Mrs Brown's cunning plan is foiled... Or is it...?-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Turton! He's been given the old 'heave ho', kicked out on his ear with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules. Within the confines of the rigid Victorian class system of course. Well, mostly... He's keeping quiet, biding his time and thinking of the money and his pension pot!Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. All this takes place after episode 6 - the finale of the TV series - and after the book has finished.It is the early 1840s.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Rose

He had changed out of his black uniform, into his brown suit and was making his way through the kitchen to head out to the park, when he heard two chattering voices. 

He recognised their owners, identifying them instantly: the bright, tinkling laughter and the mood lightening, enthusiastic voice of Lady Morgan; and the ever teasing, lewd cackling of Mrs Brown. Two complete opposites. One voice calmed, soothed and relaxed him, brightening his day with insights and praise, as well as providing a conversational joust to keep his mind the honed weapon it was. These conversations he particularly relished, his mind having dulled over his recent years of employment with the Trenchards. The blade that had blunted through lack of use, was now as sharp as it ever was. The other voice, though… That one caused him to speculate that he must have been particularly wicked in a past life to have been sent someone like her to specifically punish and vex just him. She caused him no end of frustrations with her lewd remarks and teasings! These had recently ramped up a notch, with her wretched implications that were blatantly, completely, obviously false!

"My Lady, Mrs Brown," he nodded at them both. 

"Oh! Hello, Mr Turton," Lady Morgan's face lit up as she smiled over at him.

"Ah, Mr Turton, just the person! I was only this minute remarking to her Ladyship here how wonderful the park is looking now. Especially with all the leaves starting to fall and the roses in full bloom," Mrs Brown said expectantly, easily setting up a cunning ploy for him to stumble unknowingly into.

"Oh yes, there's a delightful display of Gladiolus in one of the borders, and another is full of Asters and Michaelmas Daisies," his face shone and his whole countenance glowed when he talked about his favourite subject.

"Well now Mr Turton…" Mrs Brown said, laughing to herself as he fell head first into her trap just like a blind, one-legged rabbit! "…seeing as you're both here… Maybe you could show her Ladyship around? I mean… I would myself," she paused to sigh theatrically, "but I'm just off out to visit my sister," Mrs Brown added, leering at him.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to impose on your day off," Mrs Morgan shook her head.

Mr Turton squinted his eyes at Mrs Brown who had the widest of knowing grins on her face. He turned back to Mrs Morgan, smiling down at her. "Oh… er… it is no trouble, I was going to go there anyway, while the weather is still good. I would not mind in the slightest if you were to accompany me," he replied.

"Oh, well, only if you're sure…"

"Yes, My Lady. It is surely no trouble at all. I can wait by the front door for you?" he suggested.

"I won't be long!" she smiled at him and sped up the stairs.

"Well. Enjoy your walk Mr Turton," Mrs Brown said. "Oh Lordy! What a complete  _ ninny _ I am! I just remembered how it was  _ next _ Sunday that I'm seeing my sister! She's in Clapham, visiting her youngest and their new little 'un today." She waved at him as she bustled off into the pantry, leaving a frowning, spluttering Mr Turton staring after her.

-

"You'll have to point out all the flowers to me Mr Turton. I'm afraid I'm a complete novice on the subject of botany!" she tilted her head, smiling up at him.

"Oh! Certainly, My Lady," he nodded in reply, surprised to have someone happy to have him impart his knowledge to.

Usually, he'd be walking along by himself, his brisk strides carrying him along speedily. Today however, he was walking at a slower pace to accommodate her Ladyship's shorter stature. He looked down at her, observing her as she gazed around her as if she'd never seen a park before in her life.

"I've not been here, to Hyde Park, for a good long while. Years! Before I was married in fact!" she exclaimed, as if reading his mind. "Please do lead on Mr Turton, you obviously know the place better than I."

He fell back on his knowledge, pointing out and describing the various plants and flowers they encountered. It felt different, oddly pleasing, walking with someone as he strolled around his usual haunts in the park. He didn't stand out as much, as a lone man, for a start. This had a relaxing effect on him, he didn't have to worry so much about getting too close to others or walking around people, especially other ladies, to avoid making eye contact. Having someone to converse with, other than himself, had its advantages. He found that he enjoyed imparting his knowledge. Mrs Morgan was an avid listener, soaking his wisdom up and asking pertinent questions. She definitely wasn't like the usual vapid females he came across. Either the higher up ones like the younger Mrs Trenchard whose existence revolved around jewellery, clothing and balls. Or the lower down ones, the younger housemaids that he'd worked around, who seemed only to be interested in the shapeliness of the footmen's calves. Neither were interested in bettering themselves with knowledge or learning. Not like himself and her Ladyship.

He ushered her along the path to a sight he had particularly enjoyed last week, and hoped that she would too, here today. He paused, directing her attention towards a large bed of multicoloured Asters. There was every imaginable colour present in the floral display, from pure white, to all sorts of pinks, reds, oranges, yellows and every possible hue in-between. The beautiful flowers swayed, dancing with each other in the gentle breeze, pleading with them to gaze upon and touch their loveliness. Mrs Morgan smiled widely, gasping and holding her hands up to her mouth. She looked over at Mr Turton, bouncing on her heels in glee, asking permission of him as the flowers custodian. He nodded to her, smiling back proudly. She reached a hand out, stretching her fingers towards the flowers, sighing as she felt their softness. He watched avidly, his eyes tracking her hands as she ran her fingers over the mass of flowers in front of her. He laughed as she fell into a fit of shy giggles as the blooms tickled her. He congratulated himself at bringing her here, causing her to experience such joy and happiness. He revelled in experiencing the same joy and happiness, through watching her thusly.

"Buy a lovely flower, Sir?" his musings were interrupted by a young flower girl. She must have sidled up to him as he let his mind wander. She held a basket of the most beautiful cut roses. His attention was once again distracted as he peeked over at Mrs Morgan, watching as she ran her hands along the Aster bed, his eyes followed the delicate movements of her fingers as they lightly touched each beautiful flower in turn.

"A flower, Sir?" The girl asked again, her keen eyes had studied him as he watched Mrs Morgan. She smiled.  _ I'll have a sure sale here, I'm certain of it, if he drags his attention away from her for a split second! _ she laughed to herself.

"Oh… what…? yes…?"

"Here you go, maybe this one, Sir?" She picked out a perfect bloom for him, a yellow rose with bright red tips to it's petals.

He nodded, fishing around in his pocket for a coin.

"Thank you, Sir!" She accepted his money and wandered off, spying another likely couple.

Now that he'd bought the rose, he was uncertain of what to do next. _Give me a tarnished urn, a dropped soup tureen or a clueless footman to deal with any day over females and emotions_ , he thought. He gingerly walked up to Mrs Morgan and coughed. She turned around, her gaze moving from the flowers she was studying, over to him. Her smile grew wide as she dropped her eyes to the rose he hesitantly held out towards her.

"Um… for you my Lady? A young girl was selling them and it's a most perfect example of its species," he said, looking down at her and thrusting the rose out towards her, his face full of uncertainty.

"Oh, thank you!" she accepted the bloom. Smiling at its beauty, captivated by the colour and form of the perfect rose. 

They stood in silence. Her attention was entrapped by the rose and it's beauty. His had latched onto her as she became momentarily entranced by the flower. He watched as her eyelids drooped down as the scent hit her. 

She lifted her eyes, catching his gaze, smiling up at him as he blinked down at her.

"So Mr Turton… You were telling me about the purple daisies here?" She peered up at him, her nose still deep in the rose. 

"Er… um… they are Michaelmas Daisies."

"Oh? Named for Christmas?"

"Um… Yes. They're one of the few flowers that bloom as late as December, hence their name," he once again fell back onto the safe and steady ground that was his botanical knowledge.

"Ah, yes, that does make perfect sense! Your knowledge is excellent, as always," she nodded at him, then wandered over to run her hand along the small purple flowers. His chest puffed out at her praise and his eyes trailed after her fingers yet again. He stood, frozen where he was gazing after her as she wandered off. Observing how she felt every soft flower head and petal, just as he always wanted to do, but never did, for fear of embarrassment.

"You're very lucky to have such a beautiful wife, Sir."

"Pardon…?" his head spun to the side towards the elderly lady that spoke to him. Her and her husband must have materialised by his side while he was distracted. She pointed at Mrs Morgan who was over by the flowers, holding the rose that Mr Turton had bought her.

"Er…?"

He doesn't have the chance to correct the elderly couple, as they fell into light-hearted bickering with each other.

"I remember how you would always buy me roses. But you're far too stingy now," the old woman joked to the older gentleman, her husband, who she was leaning upon.

"And you were far less free with that sharp tongue of yours!" he retorted.

"Ha! You never complained about my tongue back then!" she sniggered.

"Hush, woman!"

The old lady cackled at her husband's and Mr Turton's red cheeks.

"Come Edith, leave the young couple be! They don't want to know about that sort of thing!"

"Why not, it's just life! All perfectly normal!"

"Hush yourself Edith!"

The old woman leered at her husband who tutted.

"Excuse me Sir, my wife is an interfering, slatternly old blabbermouth! Good day to you, Sir," he nodded at Mr Turton.

"Yes, er… good day." He nodded back and watched as they walked away, bickering and laughing together. He turned his head to see where Mrs Morgan was. She was still playing her fingers along the daisies and holding the rose, his rose. He watched a while longer, then headed towards her.

"My Lady," he smiled at her.

"Mr Turton. Where to next on our tour?" 

"This way, my Lady, I know just the place to sit, somewhere to admire the beautiful view and watch the world go by uninterrupted," he said.

"Lead on, gentle Sir!" she said.

They walked around some more, his footsteps followed their usual path, towards the serpentine, over the bridge and towards the bench under the cherry tree.

He brushed the bench with his hand, wiping any dust away as best as he could. 

"Thank you kindly, Mr Turton," she sat, gazing out at the view in front of her. "You were right, as always, it is certainly a beautiful view from up here," she sighed.

"Yes…" he looked over at her, "…it is."

"I can certainly understand why you would want to make a pilgrimage here. It's so peaceful. Away from all the hustle of London. Up here, it's just us, no titles or money or other such worries. I'm not a Countess, you're not a butler. We are just two people, sitting, enjoying each other's company and the view." Her hands were folded in her lap, the rose held between them as she gazed outwards. 

"Yes. It is very peaceful here and certainly a good spot to just be," he said.

He smiled down at her. Glad that he'd decided to show her around today.  _ Ha! _ he thought.  _ Your plan to ruin my day failed Mrs Brown!  _ His body language mirrored hers as they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the view.

He looked at her, pondering her words. It was a grand, if futile idea. Thinking that they were just two people, without the overarching weight of class hovering over and around them. It was a constant, it always would be. They were friends, companions this was true, but even that was limited by the separation of their class. He couldn't _truly_ be a friend to her. He couldn't hug her if she were sad, couldn't wipe her tears away, couldn't touch her person at all, apart from the odd hand on an arm or a steadying hand to help her up or down from a carriage or somesuch. It was not done. He paused. _What would I do if we were equals? She is certainly a beautiful woman,_ he mused. _But even if it were so, I'd only botch it all for lack of knowledge_ , he thought sadly. _I've no experience in courting or love or any of that nonsense._ He leaned towards her slightly. Then paused. He shook his head angrily. _Fanciful nonsense! Daydreams!_ _She is a countess, I'm a lowly butler. It will ever be so,_ he thought. _And anyway, I am absolutely certain that she doesn't think of me like that._

He checked his pocket watch.  _ Four pm. Probably time to head back. _ He shuffled his feet.

"What time is it please Mr Turton?"

"Just gone four, my Lady. Time to head back, I'm afraid."

"Just a few more minutes, please! It's so lovely here," she smiled up at him.

He gave it fifteen more minutes, then stood, holding a hand out to help her up. Maybe he held her gloved hand a little longer than he should have, maybe he didn't? Either way, she offered him no reprimand, only one of her beautiful smiles. And was he mistaken about how she held onto his hand, once she had stood, for longer than she should have?  _ Obviously! _ he reprimanded himself.

"Time to head back to reality," she sighed, finally releasing him, brushing her fingers along his hand as they parted.

"Yes… sorry," he replied as his empty hand fell back down to his side.

"Oh, it's not your fault Mr Turton, I'm just being a little melancholic," she admitted as they slowly headed along the path back.

"Is there something worrying you?" he asked, turning his head, peering down at her with furrowed brows.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Just not wanting to leave here. Not wanting to go back to reality, to go back to being a Countess again," she sighed, fidgeting with the rose that she held in her hands.

"Oh… I'll swap you then? But that'll mean that you'll have to polish all the wretched silver. Oh and do the accounts of course," he joked, attempting to alleviate her low mood.

"Oh! I hadn't thought of that!" she grimaced. "Those accounts can safely stay within your remit Mr Turton! Honestly! You saw what state they were in when you took over!"

"Er… they were  _ interesting _ is all that I'll say," he laughed.

She laughed with him. Her melancholia vanished, replaced by laughter and smiles.

"Besides… I don't think that you would fit into my dresses Mr Turton," she giggled, nudging him with her elbow.

"Noooo, they're not really my colouring either, to be honest."

"Too bright? Not black enough?" she guessed.

"Exactly!"

They laughed as they walked, conversation turning back to the safe one of the flowers that they passed on their return journey.

-

Once back at the house, Mrs Morgan paused in the hallway, in front of the staircases. One set of stairs going up, one going down.

"Thank you Mr Turton. For today," she looked up at him, her voice quiet, her eyes smiling. 

"It was my pleasure my Lady, to show you around," he said, "it was a most enjoyable afternoon, with pleasant weather and good company," he said, smiling down at her.

"Oh, and thank you for the beautiful rose," she held the bloom up to her face.

"It's nothing, just a small token," he said, feeling his face heat. "Well… I'd best be getting on…" he moved, taking a reluctant step away.

"Yes…" she sighed.

They parted ways in the hallway. She frowned, watching as he moved away from her. Watching as he paused at the door to the servants staircase. He turned and looked over, caught her eyes and held them for a beat or two, his face neutral, then he smiled, turned and headed downstairs. She released her breath, then continued on her way, heading upstairs. 

She carefully placed the rose on her dressing table, then went next door, into the store room, rooting about for materials to press it with. She wanted to remember today for all the flowers, and for other reasons, for as long as she could.

**Author's Note:**

> Yea… Mr Turton really needs to check up on flower meanings - this time for yellow roses with red tips… 
> 
> https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/holidays/valentines-day-ideas/g1352/rose-color-meanings/
> 
> P.s. Amos is channeling his inner Martin Goodman...


End file.
